


under pressure

by ignitesthestars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Battle, F/F, Female Anakin Skywalker, Gender or Sex Swap, Kissing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignitesthestars/pseuds/ignitesthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no denying Naboo is a beautiful planet. Under different circumstances, Ani thinks she'd even be able to relax here. Enjoy it.</p><p>Unfortunately, droids.</p><p>“Stay here,” she instructs, unhooking her lightsaber from her belt, but Padme already has a blaster out.</p><p>“They’re attacking civilians,” is all the other woman says, before she dives into the fray. Anakin has a split second to wonder where in the crap she pulled the blaster from (headdress?? Those things had to be good for something), before she’s cursing under her breath, running after her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	under pressure

There's no denying Naboo is a beautiful planet. Under different circumstances, Ani thinks she'd even be able to relax here. Enjoy it.

Unfortunately, droids.

“Stay here,” she instructs, unhooking her lightsaber from her belt, but Padme already has a blaster out.

“They’re attacking civilians,” is all the other woman says, before she dives into the fray. Anakin has a split second to wonder where in the crap she pulled the blaster from (headdress?? Those things had to be good for something), before she’s cursing under her breath, running after her.

“Padme! You _are_ a civilian!”

Anakin is not, strictly speaking, sure if that’s true. But she’s not a soldier, not a clone, and sure as hell not a Jedi, so she doesn’t belong anywhere near the mass of droids that’s converging on the Naboo. Anakin’s mind whirs as she runs - and she’s of the opinion that a Senator doesn’t have any business being able to run so fast - cataloguing numbers, people, potential exits. They’re being corralled into one of the many squares scattered around Theed (and how did the droids even get _into_ Theed this time?), which means one of two things.

Hostages, or a massacre.

Padme’s tiny form is a flaming beacon about to be snuffed out on a sea of droids, and Anakin - Anakin can’t accept that. There’s a voice in the back of her head that sounds suspiciously like Obi Wan ( _you should save as many as you can!_ ), but this is Padme and that means something.

It’s always meant something. So Anakin puts on a burst of speed, slicing through half a dozen droids in a single sweep of her lightsaber and drawing the attention of half a dozen more.

“ _Ani--_ ” Padme yells. There’s concern there, but exasperation as well. From this angle (the ground, after she’d rolled and come up in front of the Senator) it’s abruptly clear that she hadn’t been heading for the crowd and the droid, but a nearby hangar. Which probably has a shuttle, which probably has firepower.

And, more importantly, shields.

“Sometimes I wonder where you keep your brain,” Padme huffs, and the fabric of her outfit scrapes over the bare skin of Ani’s upper arms as she turns. They’re pressed back to back as the droids start to circle ( _do you think we should inform the General? He said not to disturb him while he was on his mission. Roger roger)_ and there’s only one thought in her mind now.

_Save Padme._

“I’ll distract them,” she mutters under her breath. Padme is warm, and Ani’s going to kepe her that way. “You get to the hangar. If there’s no shuttle there--”

“I’ll figure something out,” Padme assures her.

“Surrender!” a droid barks, apparently having reached a consensus with its fellows about what it needs to do with them. Anakin works her fists into the Force and--

“Padme, now!”

\--explodes it.

And the one next to it, and a few more in the general vicinity, and Anakin is abruptly aware of the Force flowing through her in a way she hasn’t

quite

felt

before.

 _Save Padme_ reverberates in her head, and she shakes off her confusion, her concern. She’ll worry about where the power came from later, right now she has to--

Padme’s cry as the blaster bolt lances through her side is a wordless thing, more surprise than pain. She staggers to her knees, and the _NO_ rips itself from Anakin’s throat before she can stop it.

“Get to the hangar,” Padme calls, voice weak. “You have to..warn…”

“I’m not leaving you,” Ani snaps back. Her lightsaber is a blur in her hand and _save padme save padme_ beats a tattoo in her skull. She doesn’t think, barely breathes; there are droids in front of her and then there are parts of droids surrounding her, and how they get that way doesn’t matter one little bit. Padme is still warm when she reaches her, but her breath comes in laboured gasps that Anakin probably doesn’t help when she scoops her up in one arm and hoists her over her shoulder.

“ _Ow_ ,” Padme gasps, but right now _out_ matters more than _how_ , and Ani needs at least one hand to fight. “My blaster--”

“You’re getting sentimental _now_?”

“No, Ani, I can still - _shoot_.”

Anakin growls, but the blaster gets into Padme’s hands one way or another and then she’s running. Somewhere in the distance, civilians are fighting, breaking free, dying, and Anakin doesn’t care. She has a goal; the hanger, and the safety it promises for her - for Padme.

The Senator’s a good shot, even when injured. She stays calm under pressure, which is probably more than Ani can claim, but which also makes it easy for her to hear the very soft, very quiet whimper of pain from the other woman.

Power surges through Anakin’s veins, or maybe it’s anger. She doesn’t care; it works. The Force doesn’t flow through her so much as it rushes in a torrent, and with another shout (wordless this time, because Padme is going to be fine, she _is_ ), she opens a path through the remaining droids.

Time passes in hazy flashes. The hangar doors slamming behind them. The crackle of lights flickering on. The hiss of a shuttle door opening, and then she’s laying Padme out on a row of seats, rummaging through storage lockers for medical supplies.

“Ani.” Padme’s voice is soft, but not with pain this time. Or at least, not entirely. “ _Ani_.”

Anakin whirls, despair thick in the back of her throat. She’s faced with the sight of Padme Amidala with her formal robes rolled down to her waist and a bacta patch pressed gingerly over her stomach. She’s pale, but there’s a grim set to her face that says _it’ll take more than this to take me out_.

“You idiot,” Ani growls, because anger seems like the better choice than the choking, awful fear that nearly swamped her. “What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?”

Heat flashes behind Padme’s dark gaze, and her shoulders straighten without a wince. “I could ask the same of you! Give me some credit, of the two of us I hardly think that _I’m_ the one about to throw myself mindlessly into the middle of a battle.”

Anakin’s hands are shaking. Her lightsaber is still knotted in one fist, and the urge to lash out and _destroy_ something is an ache in her arm that threatens to overwhelm. Her gaze locks on Padme’s, the stubborn tilt to her chin, the set of her shoulders that says she won’t broke any opposition right now, and all of the energy abruptly runs out of Anakin.

_What would she think if she saw me like that?_

Not the most Jedi-like of reasons, but Ani will meditate on it later. She drops to her knees now, lightsaber clattering to the floor.

“I - hey.” The fire drains from Padme’s tone. Her hands are gentle on Ani’s face, cradling her head as she presses her forehead to Padme, to whatever part of her she can reach.

“You could have died,” Anakin mumbles.

“But I didn’t.” Her hands are insistent, tugging her up until their faces are level. “I’m here.”

 _There is no passion, there is serenity_ , Anakin thinks, and kisses her.


End file.
